Page 113 of The Art of Taking Second Chances

“And you’re not scared, are you?”

“A bit. But I have you, and I have Riya for a trial run. I bet she’ll tell me exactly what my parenting failures are.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” I said, and he brought his forehead against mine in gratitude.

“Come on, let’s have some cake,” he said, brushing his finger against my chin. “Yeah?”

“I want to call Dada first.”

“Come outside when you’re done. I’ll get the cake ready.” His lips met mine in a delectable embrace. Pulling two robes from his closet, he handed me one. “I’ll be outside.”

It was early morning in India, and after jumping through several hoops at the rehab center, I finally managed to get in touch with Dada. In his sober condition, he sounded like the brother I had known all my life. “I’m sorry, Tara. I’m so ashamed of myself for what I said to you. You’re my baby sister, yet you’re the one who’s always protected me.”

His shameless weeping had me blinded with tears. “I miss you so much!”

“Baba was right to be proud of you. You’re everything he hoped you’d be. Maybe that’s why I was jealous. But no more, Chimni. I am very proud of who you’ve become.” It had been years since I had heard him call me Chimni. His little sparrow.

The word “catharsis” gets thrown around quite freely, but I didn’t grasp its true meaning until that day. The strange lightness I felt in my soul was something I couldn’t express in words if I tried.

“And tell Sameer, I’m coming for him once I get my bearings back. The bastard threatened me!”

I laughed from my belly. “I’d pay to see that brawl.”

“You trust me this time, Chimni, don’t you?” he asked softly.

“I do, but I need you to trust yourself. You’ve got a second chance. Make it count.”

“I promise.”

“I’ll call you again tomorrow and every day until you’re out. You’re not alone in this, Dada. Aai and I are with you, okay? Aai will be home as soon as she’s ready,” I reassured him with the confidence Sameer had projected.

When I wrapped myself in the robe and walked out, Sameer was sitting at the island, reading on his phone, with a beautiful cake before him. I walked up to read the inscription, Happy Birthday to the Only Star in My Universe.

“Everything okay? How is he?”

I hugged Sameer tight. “He’s doing well. Everything is…as good as it can be.”

“Scared of using the word perfect?” he said, making me laugh.

“He said he’s coming for you when he’s healed.”

He released a guttural laugh. “I’ll welcome him with open arms.”

Holding the knife together, we cut the cake. Exquisitely flavored chocolate frosting sat between delicate layers of vanilla sponge that melted in my mouth. He smeared a bit of the frosting on my lips and lapped it up.

“That’s a waste of cake,” I said with faux annoyance.

“You think?” He dug out a small piece with his bare hands, spread it on my chest, and licked it clean. He smeared another piece across my neck and clavicle.

“What are you doing?” I wailed. “I’m all sticky and greasy now.”

“Well, we can take a shower…together.” He grinned with a wink and put his mouth on my neck. His tongue was just about to melt me away when he stopped and said, “Hey, before I forget, I have something for you.” He rushed inside and emerged with a canvas in his hand.

“What’s this?”

“Your birthday gift to me, remember?”

I tried not to smile, but a tiny one slipped out anyway.

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